Ah, dear readers of the Palarse – that merry band of Westminster-watchers who've stuck with me through a decade-plus of political pantomimes – gather 'round the virtual bonfire. It's November 24, 2025, and the chill wind of fiscal reality is already whistling through the corridors of power. Just three days shy of Rachel Reeves' big Autumn Budget showdown on the 26th, and what do we have? Not a united front of red-tied revolutionaries ready to "fix the foundations" (as Keir Starmer loves to intone like a malfunctioning mantra), but a full-throated, backstabbing blame bonanza within Labour's own ranks. It's like watching a family reunion where the turkey's still frozen and everyone's pointing fingers at the oven.
Picture the scene: Starmer, that erstwhile human rights lawyer turned PM with the charisma of a damp sock, slotted in Torsten Bell – the wonkish wonderboy from the Resolution Foundation, now MP for Swansea West and self-appointed Pensions Tsar – to "advise" (read: rein in) his Chancellor. Bell, with his sharp suits and sharper spreadsheets, was meant to be the brains trust keeping Reeves on the straight and narrow path of progressive prudence. But oh, how the plot thickens! Now, Bell's cheerleaders are slinging mud at Reeves' inner circle, accusing them of peddling the line that Torsten and his shadowy sidekick Baroness Minouche Shafik – yes, that ex-Columbia University import, Torsten's trusty lieutenant in this fiscal farce, the one whose name dances just out of my addled memory like a tax loophole in the fog – are treating the Budget like their personal petri dish. Experimenting with wild ideas! Taxing pensions like they're party favours! Slashing VAT thresholds to £30,000 to "broaden the base" (code for sticking it to small businesses faster than you can say "entrepreneurial spirit crushed")!
It's a right old ding-dong, isn't it? On one side, the Bell brigade – those idealistic interns-cum-advisors who've drunk deep from the think-tank Kool-Aid – lambasting Reeves' die-hards for daring to whisper that their hero's running amok. "He's not hijacking the ship!" they cry from the shadows of anonymous briefings. "He's saving it from the icebergs of austerity Reeves herself helped carve!" And on the flip side? Reeves' loyalists, those battle-hardened Treasury vets who've weathered more U-turns than a London cabbie in rush hour, firing back that Bell's crew are the real vandals. Treating Her Majesty's (soon to be His Majesty's, if the royals have their way) Budget as a lab for lefty experiments: equalising capital gains with income tax (finally making the rich pay their "fair share," or so the pitch goes), mega-pension funds to "boost productivity" (while quietly eyeing those juicy triple-lock tweaks), and who knows what other Columbia-bred brainwaves from Bell's accomplice. Is it a radical rethink or a recipe for revolt? You decide, but from where I'm sitting in my armchair bunker, it smells like the rats are already leaping ship.
This internal Labour tussle isn't just tittle-tattle for the Westminster Wags; it's a seismic shift in the seismic faultline of Starmer's "mission-led" government. Remember the loveless landslide of '24? That 34% vote share propped up by a Tory implosion bigger than the Hindenburg? Well, now the chickens – or should I say, the black holes in the public finances, estimated at a cool £22bn and counting – are coming home to roost. Reeves, the self-styled "serious" Chancellor with her economist's gravitas and occasional tearful TED Talks, promised no rises on income tax, NI, or VAT. But whispers from the Treasury tea-room suggest that's about to go the way of winter fuel payments: U-turned into oblivion. And with the Office for Budget Responsibility (OBR) lurking like a stern headmaster, ready to downgrade growth forecasts and demand £20bn in tax top-ups, who's to blame when the bond markets sneeze and the gilts catch a cold?
Enter the blame game, stage left, three days early and already more entertaining than a Carry On film. Bell's supporters – fresh from his promotion to lead Budget prep back in August, a move hailed as Reeves "locking in" her radical edge – are apoplectic at suggestions their man’s turning the fiscal levers into a wonkish whimsy. "Reeves' camp are the saboteurs!" they hiss in off-the-record offloads to the New Statesman and beyond. "They're protecting the status quo while Torsten dares to dream of a Britain where workers aren't taxed harder than yacht-owning oligarchs!" Meanwhile, Reeves' crew – let's call them the Pragmatists' Posse – retort that Bell and his Columbia connection (ah, yes, that elusive ex-Yankee egghead, the one blending transatlantic theory with British bureaucracy) are the loose cannons. "This isn't advice; it's anarchy!" they thunder. "Using the Budget as a beta test for Resolution Foundation fever dreams – scrapping the two-child cap one minute, means-testing energy bills the next. Have they no manifesto to honour?"
And the great British public? We're the unwilling extras in this Whitehall farce, bracing for the fallout. Will it be a "grip the cost of living" triumph, as Reeves teased last weekend, with frozen rail fares and scrapped welfare limits to soothe the squeezed middle? Or a tax-trauma trigger, alienating the very working people Labour swore to champion? Economists are already sharpening their pencils: productivity downgrades loom, spending sprees (£190bn, anyone?) demand hikes, and small businesses – those plucky corner-shop heroes – eye the VAT noose with dread. If Bell's experiments prevail, expect a backlash bigger than Brexit regrets at a Remain rally. If Reeves reins him in, the lefty purists will cry sell-out louder than a Vegan at a butcher's.
Look, folks, I've been chronicling this clown car of a capital for over ten years now on Palarse and the wider kenfrost.net empire, and let me tell you: this Budget blame bust-up is peak politics. It's the hypocritical elite at their finest – promising change while circling the wagons, all while the rest of us foot the bill. But fear not; in the spirit of enlightened cynicism, I've got just the antidote to this fiscal fever. Why not arm yourself with some survival reading? Dive into Great Britain? How We Get Our Future Back by none other than Torsten Bell himself – a razor-sharp dissection of our economic woes that reads like a thriller for policy nerds (grab it here and ponder if his "future" matches the one he's brewing in No.11). Or, for a broader blast of budgetary brilliance, snag The Budgeting Bible by [insert affiliate link guru] – your guide to personal finances in these trying times (link here). And if you're feeling particularly masochistic, Who Governs Britain? by the inimitable Anthony King offers timeless takedowns of Treasury tomfoolery (snag it now).
There you have it, Palarse faithful: Labour's pre-Budget bloodletting, served with a side of schadenfreude. Will Starmer slap down the squabblers in time for Wednesday's dispatch box drama? Or will this three-day teaser explode into a full-scale civil war by teatime? Tune in tomorrow for more from the arse-end of austerity. In the meantime, keep your wallets close and your wits sharper – because in Westminster, the only thing certain is the spin.
What say you, readers? Is Bell the saviour or the saboteur? Drop your hot takes in the comments below, and remember: if this circus drives you to despair, retail therapy via those Amazon links might just be the therapy you need. Chin up, Britain – we've survived worse than a wonky wallet-worrier.
Ken Frost, Palarse Proprietor – Exposing the Emperors' New Clothes Since 2010
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